A Wizard's Best Friend
by The Unicorn Whisperer
Summary: Another what if from me! Don't be turned off by the title, it's not a 'fluffy' fic, it had a lot of humor. What if Sirius was given a second chance on the Halloween night so long ago? What if he stayed with Harry, but with a twist? Read to find out.
1. Darkness and Light

A/N: O' come all ye `what if' lovers! Welcome for my second go at a `what if' fic, and once again I'm taking a road less traveled. Actually, I don't think it has been traveled at all. So I'm creating it! Aren't you proud of me? Okay, enough babbling from the soon-to-be-babbling queen, and onto the story.  
  
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This `Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.  
  
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious thanks to my betas, Immia (she gave me the title for this story) and Dumbledore's True Love! Without them I would have scrapped this whole thing immediately. So if you really like this story line thank them for encouraging me to write it.  
  
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I own the plot and a few original things.  
  
A Wizard's Best Friend  
  
Prologue: Darkness and Light  
  
~*~  
  
Clang!   
  
The treasured motor bike fell carelessly to ground as the smell of smoldering wreckage hit Sirius Black's nostrils the moment his feet touched the pavement. The sidewalk was covered in rubble, the fence was broken, a few small fires were still burning, and what had been the home of his best friends' was reduced to nothing but ruins.  
  
Sirius stood there for might have been moments or hours (he was never quite sure) simply staring at the wreckage of what, only an hour ago, had been a house filled with light and warmth.  
  
As if in a daze, Sirius managed to move his legs which suddenly felt as though someone had attached lead weight to each of them. His mind was in a fog. This is a nightmare, he thought as he stepped over a splintered fence board. I'm going to wake up in my bed, and James will be there telling me that I had blackout and dream this all . . .  
  
Crunch!  
  
Sirius jumped a foot in the air at the sudden burst of sound in the silence of the night. He looked down to see what he had stepped on--a pair of glasses. Thick, black framed glasses. James Potter's glasses.  
  
His breath caught in his chest as he stared at the shattered glasses. Then, as if some mystical force was forcing him to, Sirius lifted his head--poking out of the rubble was the last thing Sirius wanted to see, a hand. On the ring finger was a gold band.  
  
Sirius lunged at the hand. "JAMES," he cried as he started clearing away the rubble. "You can't die! Not yet anyway," he mumbled senselessly as he tossed bits of rubble over his shoulder. He worked at it tirelessly until finally he had cleared enough to pull James out.  
  
James's eyes were closed, his face white as a ghost's. His lips were an icy blue, but twisted into a smirk. Trembling, Sirius laid two fingers on his best friend's wrist, searching for a pulse.  
  
"It's not there," said a gruff voice behind him.  
  
Sirius raised his head slowly. "And Lily?" he choked out.  
  
The giant nodded, "Aye. You-Know-Wh--"  
  
"I know damn well who Hagrid!" Sirius shrieked, jumping to his feet. His face was white; he felt surges of adrenalin mixed without sorrow rack his body until he started to shake uncontrollably.  
  
Hagrid laid a trashcan lid size had on Sirius shoulder, "Take it easy Sirius."  
  
Sirius spun around, and let out a long string of curses before collapsing to his knees in the wreckage. Quivering still, he ran a hand through his long, raven hair. It was his, Sirius's, fault! He had suggested the switch, and now he might as well have blood on his hands. Swallowing hard, choking back his tears, Sirius asked, "D-did h-he k-kill H-Harry too?"  
  
Hagrid's beetle black eyes crinkled into a smile, "No Sirius."  
  
At these words, Sirius's head shot up, and for the first time he got a good look at Hagrid. As usual, he looked simply too big to be allowed with his tangled masses of long black hair and beard. He was wearing his moleskin overcoat, and in his vast, muscular arms was a bundle of blankets.  
  
Sirius scrambled to his feet, it was too good to be true. "Harry?" he called.  
  
The delighted squeal of "Sirius!" came from inside the blankets.  
  
At this Sirius could have jumped for joy, Harry was alive! In a moment he was at Hagrid's side, looking happier than a child on Christmas morning. He peered into the blankets at the infant curled up there. "Harry?" he called again to his godson.  
  
A pair of bright green eyes stared back at him, looking almost relived. "Siri," Harry gurgled, reaching out to his godfather. This simple motion caused Harry's bangs to fall back revealing a deep, bleeding, red gash across his forehead.  
  
Sirius gasped while pulling a bandana out of his jacket pocket, mopping up the blood.  
  
"How did he survive? Voldemort never leaves any witnesses."  
  
Hagrid shuddered at You-Know-Who's true name, before saying, "I dunno Sirius, Harry must of stumped `im, Dumbledore says he's gone. You said Harry was special, didn't yeh?"  
  
"I never thought he would be this special," Sirius said just above a whisper. They stood there for several minutes in awe of the child that had rid their world of the most horrible tyrant since Grindelwald.  
  
Hagrid cleared his throat loudly, breaking the silence that had descended upon them.  
  
"Sirius, I have to go meet Dumbledore now, so I'll be--"  
  
"WHAT?!" Sirius snapped terrified at what he thought Hagrid meant.  
  
"I have to take Harry to his aunt and `ncle," Hagrid said thickly. "Dursley I think their name is."  
  
Sirius moaned in anguish. "Are you mad?! Those people--Lily's sister and her hippo of a husband--loath, despise and abominate magic in every form. They will kill Harry, not protect him."  
  
Hagrid tried again, "Sirius, Dumbledore wants Harry to go there--"  
  
"I don't give damn what Dumbledore wants! Let me take Harry, it's in Lily and James's will, in the event of their demise Harry goes to me, not Lily's psycho sister," Sirius lost whatever bit of his temper he still had then. "Goddamn it Hagrid, it's in their will, in black and white, clear as crystal! I don't care what Dumbledore wants! He's wrong and he can shove it!"  
  
Hagrid's chest puffed out, and his voice turned hard, "Sirius Black, I have Albus Dumbledore's orders and nothing you can say or do will avert me from fulfilling them as I have been instructed, understand?"  
  
Sirius felt his blood freeze, he hated to admit it but he was afraid of what the giant could do to him. "But Hagrid," he said weakly.  
  
Hagrid shook his head.  
  
Sirius turned away from the giant, but his shoulders dropped in defeat. Emotions bounced off his inners like basketballs dribbling on a court. `Find Wormtail,' he thought, `he betrayed Lily and James, now you will avenge them.' "Take my bike," he said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You heard me Hagrid; take my bike to get Harry to Dumbledore," Sirius growled.  
  
"Are yer sure?" Hagrid asked sounding flabbergasted.  
  
"I'm sure, I won't need it anymore," Sirius said, turning back to Hagrid and handing him his keys to the bike. "But may I say good-bye to Harry though?"  
  
Hagrid gave him a smile, nodding. Sirius stepped forward, and stroked Harry's cheek.  
  
"I love you Emeralds, but I have to go away for awhile, okay?" Sirius murmured.  
  
Harry whimpered, single tear rolling down his cheek.  
  
"Hey, don't cry for me, I'm not worth that. But if you ever need me just whistle down the wind got it?" He kissed Harry's forehead, just above the gash, quickly mumbling, "Adios amigo." With that he turned away from them, and began to leave.  
  
"But Sirius," Hagrid tried again.  
  
"Just take it, I won't need it anymore," Sirius called back as thoughts of revenge filled his head. He didn't care what happened to him anymore, just as long as Peter got his comeuppance. Only one voice broke through his enraged thoughts, a panicked cry of,  
  
"Sirius!"   
  
Harry's call made his godfather stop in his tracks. All the million and one crazed plans, schemes, and ideas that were passing through Sirius's mind at that moment stopped. All, except one. In one swift motion, he turned around, and sprinted back to his bike and to Harry.  
  
Hagrid was just about to turn on the ignition when Sirius knocked his hand out of the way. "Sirius, what are yeh doing?" Hagrid snapped.  
  
"Going with you," Sirius said simply, jumping on the bike in front of Hagrid, and shoving the key in the ignition.  
  
~*~  
  
On a darken street, Privet Drive the street sign said, in the town of Little Whinging stood two figures. One figure was tall, thin, and judging by how long and how silver his hair and beard were, very old. He had twinkling light blue eyes that were hidden behind half-moon spectacles, and a very long nose that must have been broken at least twice. He was Albus Dumbledore. The other figure was slightly shorter then Dumbledore, had black hair that was drawn back in a tight bun. She too was wearing spectacles with a stern expression on her face. She was Professor M. McGonagall. Both were wearing robes.  
  
"But how is the boy getting here" McGonagall asked, eying Dumbledore's cloak.  
  
"Hagrid's bringing him," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"You think it--wise--to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"  
  
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but can't pretend that he's not careless. He does tend to--what was that?"  
  
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar at the looked up at the sky--and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.  
  
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motor bike?"  
  
"He didn't get it," said one of the last voices that Dumbledore and McGonagall expected to hear. "He's hitching a ride."  
  
"Mr. Sirius Black," Dumbledore said delicately.  
  
"That's my name," Sirius said swinging off the bike with ease. "Here Hagrid, I'll hold Harry while you get off."  
  
"Mr. Black, what a surprise," said McGonagall, looking at Dumbledore meaningfully. Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Yeah," Sirius said offhandedly, hugging closer Harry to him. "I have a reason for being here actually."  
  
"And what is that?" asked Dumbledore sounding faintly curious.  
  
Sirius sighed deeply, "I know what you are thinking, and I did not betray Lily and James."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, I . . ." Sirius stopped, adverting his dark eyes from Dumbledore's and gazed down at his godson who was sleeping peacefully. The serene face seemed to give him the courage to look Dumbledore square in the eye and tell the truth. "I was not Lily and James's Secret Keeper."  
  
"Preposterous!" cried McGonagall.  
  
"'Ear him out, Professor," Hagrid said abruptly. "I hear the whole story on the way here and I believe him."  
  
McGonagall sighed. "Well, out with it," she demanded.  
  
Sirius gave Hagrid a grateful smile. "Professors, I have not betrayed James and Lily, I as good as betrayed them though. I convinced James to switch to Peter Pettigrew a week ago and . . ."  
  
"Why did you ask him to switch?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
Sirius's expression turned to one of ashamed. "I did not believe that I could protect them," he said, he voice starting to crack with sorrow. "I thought that I was the obvious choice and therefore I would be the one he would come after. So in hopes that I would not reveal their "Secret" I suggested James to chose a less likely Secret Keeper . . ."  
  
"Peter Pettigrew?"  
  
"Yes sir, I figured that Voldemort would never suspect James to choose such a weak, harmless wizard to protect his family and his life. Therefore when Voldemort came after me, I would not fear of disclosing the hiding place under the Imperious Curse. But I did worse, I convince James to switch to the very person who handed his family to Voldemort on a silver platter."  
  
Dumbledore regarded Sirius with a solemn expression.  
  
Sirius continued, "Last night I arranged to check on Peter, and when I arrived at his flat, it was deserted. No sign of struggle or anything. Realizing what Pettigrew must have done, I rushed to James's only to find the house reduced to wreckage. That is where I met with Hagrid and was told of your plan to leave Harry here. So I decided to tag along so to speak." Sirius paused to take a breath. "You must believe me sir! I would never betray my best friends. They were all I had, and now they are gone. And now you wish to leave their only son to the worst people in the universe? I can't allow that. If I lose Harry, coupled with the lost of my two best friends in the world I will go and hand myself to the Azkaban guards right now because without them I have nothing to live for."  
  
A long silence followed this speech. Sirius wasn't sure what Dumbledore was thinking, but it probably wasn't in his favor.  
  
Finally, Dumbledore spoke; "Do you believe him Hagrid?"  
  
"Yes, Professor," Hagrid said firmly.  
  
"Then I do also."  
  
Sirius nearly dropped Harry in surprise.  
  
"What?" he stammered.  
  
"I said I believe your story Mr. Black," Dumbledore repeated.  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"But Albus," McGonagall broke in. "What about the boy?"  
  
Dumbledore frowned, "As much as I would like to give you Harry, Mr. Black, it would be against my best judgment to do so."  
  
Sirius paled, "Why?"  
  
"For the reason that I would like to keep Harry away from our world until he reaches the proper age where he can handle his fame."  
  
"But," protested Sirius, "what if I live in the Muggle world with him?"  
  
McGonagall snorted, "I do not believe you could survive an hour let alone ten years without the use of magic. Your blood is as pure as they come; you have not spent a day of your life without . . ."  
  
"I know," Sirius interrupted. "But I would do anything to see to Harry's safety. To see that he's taken care of, appreciated, loved. The Dursleys won't give him anything beyond the means of food and water because he is one of us. I've seen the way Petunia treated Lily, like she was a dry rot. I refuse to let Harry be treated in the same manner."  
  
"Passionate words, Mr. Black but I am afraid that I will stand firm on my decision," said Dumbledore.  
  
Sirius's head dropped in defeat, "But . . ."  
  
"You will see him again in ten years, and then he may live with you," McGonagall suggested as Dumbledore held out his arms to take Harry from Sirius.  
  
"Ten years is a lifetime," Sirius grumbled as he reluctantly handed Harry over.  
  
"Pity there isn't some way you could stay with him `ere," Hagrid murmured.  
  
A grin overtook Sirius's face as an idea sprang to mind at these words. "Professors!" he shouted. "I have an idea!"  
  
Dumbledore, who was about to lay Harry down on the doorstep, straightened up and turned to Sirius. "Yes?"  
  
"What if there was a way I could live with Harry, and take care of him while he's at the Dursleys? Then could I stay with him?"  
  
"Well yes but I don't see how you could," McGonagall said while Dumbledore gave Sirius a curious look.  
  
"I could live here," Sirius grinned.  
  
McGonagall laughed softly. "That is impossible! The Dursleys might take on another child but certainly not another adult. I don't think even Albus could explain that in his letter."  
  
"But I wouldn't stay as an adult per say."  
  
"Then as what? A dog?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes."  
  
Before Dumbledore, Hagrid, or McGonagall could react to this words Sirius was gone, and in his place stood an enormous, shaggy, black dog.  
  
"You're an Animagus!" McGonagall gasped.  
  
"Your nicknames," Dumbledore breathed. "Moony-Remus, Prongs-James, Wormtail-Peter, and Padfoot-you."  
  
The dog nodded before giving Dumbledore a pleading look.  
  
"What are you going to do Albus?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled, "I do believe I'm going to have to revise my letter to include a dog named Padfoot."  
  
~*~ 


	2. The Best of Friends

A/N: O' come all ye 'what if' lovers! Welcome for my second go at a 'what if' fic, and once again I'm taking a road less traveled. Actually, I don't think it has been traveled at all. So I'm creating it! Aren't you proud of me? Okay, enough babbling from the soon-to-be-babbling queen, and onto the story. (I know, I know same author's note but oh well)  
  
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This 'Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.  
  
Thank you: HoundofDeath (Here it is! Here it is!), Keara Jordan (Thank you! You're making me blush), Angie, potter_hal, Lilly Potter, summersun, Lotesse (Aw Lotesse! Such praise! The humor part is for later, it'll be there though), Lassy D, sweets (Welcome to beta-dom!), Sandrine Black, Fire Spirit, Nicky, Clue, Midnight Owl, Lavander Ice, Immia, Artemis-chan, vmr, Nagini (aw, yes, but your Dad is also my buddy! Haha!), Butterflygurl, Wolfie (You are my ego's best friend!), T. Cairpre, Shayla, ChibiK, s, Lin- z, Tvillinger, Spunky (you'll see)  
  
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious thanks to my betas, Immia, (she gave me the title for this story) Essence of Magic and sweets! Without them I would have scrapped this whole thing immediately. So if you really like this story line thank them for encouraging me to write it.  
  
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone, I stake no claim to them; they are Rowling's. I own the plot and a few original things.  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: The Best of Friends  
  
  
  
"Get up! Get up, now!"  
  
Harry Potter awoke with a start; a fist was pounding against his door. He was surrounded in darkness, but that was not so unusual since his bedroom was the dingy cupboard under the stairs.  
  
"Are you up yet?" a shrill voice demanded.  
  
"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry said sleepily, turning over the other way.  
  
"You have five minutes," Aunt Petunia warned before the sound of her retreating half-heels echoed down the hallway.  
  
Hearing this, Harry rolled over and buried his face in a mountain of thick, black fur. "Morning Padfoot," he murmured.  
  
The dog yawned, stretching his long, pink tongue out. Padfoot sat up causing Harry's head to fall off his back.  
  
"Oof!" Harry grumbled, slightly annoyed of being deprived of his pillow. He had every intention of going back to sleep until he felt his neck grow solidly wet. He twisted around, and was assaulted by a large, wet tongue. "No!" he cried trying to push Padfoot back.  
  
Padfoot barked loudly, before pinning Harry to the bed.  
  
"I surrender," Harry laughed as he received his 'good morning lick attack.'  
  
Padfoot leapt off his owner and landed lightly on the floor. He waited patiently as Harry dressed. He pawed the cupboard door lightly, telling Harry he wanted out of the small space.  
  
Harry opened the door. Padfoot trotted alongside him as they walked into the kitchen. "Good morning Aunt Petunia," he mumbled pouring some dry dog food into a very battered dog dish.  
  
The horse-faced blonde woman sneered at the sight of the dog. "Feed that mutt after you make _our_ breakfast. It's Dudley's birthday."  
  
"But—" protested Harry as a carton of eggs was thrust into his hands. Sighing, he placed the dog dish on the counter and began preparing the Dursleys' breakfast.  
  
This was what it had been like for nearly ten years for Harry. He had lived a life of near slavery ever since he came to number 4 Privet Drive. Ever since his parents had been killed in, what he had been told, a car crash. Harry couldn't remember being in a car, but when he tried hard he could remember a searing pain in his forehead and a flash of green light. He had guessed that whatever caused the pain had given him his scar.  
  
His scar was the only thing that he liked about himself. It was shaped like a lightning bolt, but was usually hidden behind his jet black bangs. It had a faint air of mystery about it, but the Dursleys had forbidden him from asking questions before he could ask.  
  
So not having any other living relatives Harry was sent to the Dursleys along with his dog Padfoot. The large, shaggy, black mutt was the only thing he had from his parents, and he had always been his. Never Dudley's or some stranger's, always his. Although no one ever noticed, Harry regarded Padfoot as his best friend, and often said that his dog was really a person trapped in a dog's body, but no one ever believed him. Well, except Padfoot.  
  
Padfoot, at the moment, was thumping his tail eagerly against the floor as he watched Harry causally knock a large piece of sausage off the breakfast platter.  
  
"Whoops," Harry mumbled smirking as Aunt Petunia's back was turned. The dog swiftly lifted the meat from the floor and gulped in down hungrily.  
  
Harry patted the dog's head as he brought the breakfast platter into the dining room. As soon as he placed the heavy platter on the table (which was nearly buried under all the presents) he pulled out a thick, worn, faded brown, leather collar from his back jeans' pocket. "Come here Padfoot," he called, kneeling.  
  
Padfoot stood patiently as Harry buckled the collar around his neck. Harry checked it to make sure it wasn't too tight before running a finger over the silver license tag.  
  
"Proposing to your long lost love Harry?" sneered a fat, blonde boy.  
  
Harry jumped to his feet, scowling at his cousin, "Shut up Dudley."  
  
Dudley flicked him off. Harry's fists clinched and Padfoot snarled.  
  
"Shut that mutt up," said a gruff voice, Uncle Vernon.  
  
Padfoot rolled his eyes turning to Harry.  
  
"Shh, Padfoot," Harry whispered tiredly. He didn't feel like dealing with the Dursleys this morning. He watched as Dudley counted his presents, vaguely aware of Padfoot's head on his lap.  
  
"Two less than last year," Dudley whined.  
  
Harry watched as Dudley whined and Aunt Petunia soothed, wondering if he would have acted the same way toward his own mother. Probably not. His thoughts were pulled cruelly back to the present by the ringing of the telephone.  
  
Aunt Petunia scurried off to answer it, and returned a moment later looking rather cross. "That was Mrs. Figg," she said to he husband. "She broke her leg."  
  
"So?" Uncle Vernon replied from behind the morning paper.  
  
"She said that she can't take _him_," she snapped, jerking her head toward Harry.  
  
Although knowing that he should feel sorry for Mrs. Figg, Harry's heart couldn't resist to give a little leap of joy at this. Every year on Dudley's birthday Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took their son and a friend to the movies, or amusement parks, or out to eat while Harry was sent to Mrs. Figg's. The elderly woman's house smelt of cabbage and cats, and she always made him look at the pictures of all the cats she had ever own. The thought of not seeing Fluffy of Mr. Tibbles for another year was worth its weight in gold.  
  
But one quick argument later put a slight damper on Harry's good mood; true he was going to the zoo for the first time in his life, and true he wasn't going to Mrs. Figg's, but what was also true was that Uncle Vernon was already breathing down his neck about it.  
  
"I'm warning you," he said, putting his large, purple face right up close to Harry's. "I'm warning you now, boy—any funny business, anything at all—and you'll be in that cupboard firm now until Christmas."  
  
"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry. "Honestly . . ."  
  
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him, no one ever did.  
  
Padfoot whined softly as Harry yanked a brush through his hair as if trying to say, "Take me with you."  
  
"I'll be okay, Pad," Harry said, scratching Padfoot behind the ears. "You don't _have_ to act like an overprotective father _all_ the time you know."  
  
Suddenly, Harry found himself pinned to the floor, being subjected to a lick attack. "Ger off! Oi, say one wrong thing and . . . blah! That was my mouth!"  
  
"Boy! Stop playing with your damn dog already!"  
  
"Yes Uncle Vernon, see you later Padfoot."  
  
~*~  
  
"NO MEALS!"  
  
Harry buried his face in his hands. Once again he was in his dark cupboard pondering how had he had made the glass disappear. "And then the snake said, "Thanks amigo" before slithering off," he explained to Padfoot who had his head on Harry's knee. "Why do these things always happen to _me_?"  
  
Padfoot looked pensive for a moment before nuzzling Harry's hand sympathetically.  
  
"I hate it here, I really do. Next year, I have to go to Stonewall. No dogs allowed. You'll be stuck here with them all day; they'd starve you for sure!"  
  
Padfoot perked an ear; this was Harry's way of expressing self pity, by redirecting it to the dog.  
  
Furious, Harry swung his legs up on the bed and slammed his head against the pillow. "I wish . . . I wish," he mumbled staring at the ceiling. "I wish we had a fairy godfather or something!"  
  
Padfoot jumped onto the cot, giving Harry an odd look.  
  
"Well, fairy godmothers are for girls, right?" Harry grinned.  
  
The dog shrugged, flopping down next to the boy. Harry stroked his back, letting his fingers run through the silky fur.  
  
"Paddy?" he said quietly as the dog jerked his head up looking him straight in the eyes, as if understanding that something was bothering Harry. They sat there for several moments simply staring at each other before Harry burst out into giggles. He was laughing so hard that he had to cling to Padfoot so he wouldn't fall over.  
  
Padfoot, by now, was quite bemused. What did Harry think was so funny? A small doggish grin crossed his face as he pushed Harry down, prompting a wrestling match.  
  
Several minutes later, both were sprawled out on the floor, panting. Defeated, Harry scrambled back on his cot, tired but happy. Padfoot followed suit, laying his head on Harry's pillow.  
  
Harry buried his face in Padfoot's fur again and closed his eyes, murmuring, "I love you, Padfoot."  
  
~~~~  
  
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest- ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of the cupboard again, the summer holidays had started.  
  
Although Harry was glad that school was over, there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Big and stupid, the lot of them, but since Dudley was the biggest and stupidest he was the leader. They all immensely enjoy playing their favorite sport: Harry Hunting.  
  
Therefore, Harry and Padfoot spent as much time wandering the town as possible. Harry spent most of this time thinking about the end of the holidays, when he would be attending Stonewall High without, for the first time in his life, Dudley. Dudley was attending Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings.  
  
One day in late-July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to buy his school uniform while leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. She didn't complain about Padfoot terrorizing her precious cats, which Harry could never understand since Padfoot paid the hideous fur- balls, no mind let alone chase them. She let Harry watch television, and even gave both of them a slice of stale chocolate cake.  
  
That night, Dudley showed off his new Smeltings uniform, while his parents doted. Harry, on the other hand, was digging his nails in Padfoot's fur trying not to laugh.  
  
~~~  
  
When Harry entered the kitchen the next morning he nearly gagged. There was a terrible smell coming from a large metal tub filled with gray water. It turned out that Aunt Petunia was dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray so they supposedly look like the Stonewall uniform. Harry doubted this.  
  
When the mail arrived, Harry was forced to get it or be subjected to a whacking by the Smeltings' stick. He rifled through it, letter from Aunt Marge, bill, and a letter for _him_.  
  
Harry stared at it curiously, the envelope was made of a yellow parchment and the address was written in green ink. On the back there was a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, eagle, badger, and a snake intertwined around a large letter H.  
  
"Hurry up, boy!" hollered Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.  
  
Harry returned to the kitchen, still gazing at his letter. He handed his Uncle the card and the bill, sat back down and started to open the letter.  
  
Padfoot looked inquisitively at Harry, as if wondering or even knowing what the letter was about. He watched as Harry was about to unfold the letter when it was yanked out of his hands.  
  
"That's _mine_!" snapped Harry, snatching at the letter.  
  
"Who would write to you?" sneered his Uncle as he read the contents of the letter, unaware of the loud snarling coming from the dog behind him. Within seconds Uncle Vernon went from red to green to a pasty white.  
  
"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.  
  
Dudley made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Vernon held it out of reach. Aunt Petunia took the letter, read the first line, and looked faint. "Vernon!" she choked out.  
  
They stared at each other in astonishment and horror. They seemed to have forgotten about Harry, Dudley, and more importantly Padfoot.  
  
Before anyone noticed the dog jumped up and ripped the letter out of Aunt Petunia's bony hand. He got out of Uncle Vernon's reach before bounding toward Harry, letter in mouth. Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry, his fat, purple hand raised . . .  
  
Dropping the letter, Padfoot shot forward, eyes blazing.  
  
Uncle Vernon brought his hand down, not on Harry's face, but around Padfoot's collar. He hoisted the dog up, opened the kitchen door, and flung him outside. He smirked at the yelp the dog gave when he hit the dirt.  
  
Uncle Vernon turned around, and swipe the letter up, enjoying the terrified look on Harry's face at what had been done to his precious Padfoot. "Out, both of you," he said stuffing the letter in his pocket.  
  
Harry stayed put.  
  
"GIVE ME MY LETTER!" he yelled.  
  
"_I_ want to see it!" snapped Dudley.  
  
"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared, grabbing Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and throwing them in the hall, slamming the door in their faces.  
  
They had a silent fight over who would listen through the keyhole, Dudley won. So Harry laid flat in his stomach, listening through the crack in the door. What they heard was a confusing conversation that ended with;  
  
"But what if that dog knew?"  
  
"No! I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him and his damn dog in that we would stamp out this dangerous nonsense?"  
  
When Uncle Vernon returned from that evening, he did something that he had never done before; visited Harry in his cupboard.  
  
"Where's my letter?" Harry asked the moment squeezed in. "Who's writing to me?"  
  
"No one, it was a mistake, I burnt it," Uncle Vernon said quickly.  
  
"It was _not_, it had my cupboard on it," Harry grumbled. "Even Padfoot knew it."  
  
"SILENCE!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. Then he forced a smile which looked more like a sneer.  
  
"Harry, about this cupboard, your aunt and I were thinking that you're getting a bit big for it, and since that dog—Padfoot, I mean—sleeps with you . . . we thought the you should move into Dudley's second bedroom."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just go!"  
  
Several minutes later, Harry lay on the bed with Padfoot (who had been kept outside all day) curled up next to him.  
  
Downstairs they heard Dudley throwing a tantrum, "But I _don't_ want them in there! It'll smell like dog!"  
  
Sighing, Harry turned to Padfoot, "I wonder what was in that letter anyway."  
  
  
  
When the mail arrived the next morning there was another letter. This time a brawl brought out between Harry, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon for it. Padfoot, on the other hand, dived in and out of the confused pile, trying to grab the letter when no one was minding it. He turned out to be the only one who wasn't smacked by the Smelting stick, but in the end Uncle Vernon was the one who got the letter.  
  
"Go to your cupboard—I mean room," he huffed at Harry. "Dudley—go—just go."  
  
Harry paced the length of his room several times, Padfoot pacing behind him. "They knew I didn't get the first letter and that I moved out of my cupboard. I bet they're going to try again, and this time I _am_ going to get that letter."  
  
Early the next morning, Harry awoke and dressed silently. He told Padfoot to stay, so the Dursleys would get suspicious. Then he crept downstairs, he planned to wait for the postman on the corner and get the mail for number four first.  
  
Just as he reached the front door he stepped on something squashy—something alive!  
  
It was Uncle Vernon, who was apparently trying to prevent Harry from doing what he had planned to do. He yelled at his nephew for half an hour before telling him to go make a cup of tea. When Harry returned the mail had arrived right in Uncle Vernon's lap, there were three letters addressed in green ink. Uncle Vernon tore them up before his eyes.  
  
Also that day, he nailed up the mail slot.  
  
On Friday, at least twelve letters arrived, shoved under the door, stuck in the sides, and even a few were forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.  
  
After burning the letters, Uncle Vernon stayed home from work boarding up all the cracks in the house.  
  
By Saturday, things were getting out of hand; twenty-four letters were delivered in two dozen eggs by a very confused milkman.  
  
Uncle Vernon spent a good part of the day trying to find someone to complain to while Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.  
  
~~  
  
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon happily reminded them that there was no post on Sundays. But as soon as he said it something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney and hit him on the back of the head. Then thirty of forty letters came whizzing out of the fireplace. Harry leapt in the air trying to catch one.  
  
But before he could, Uncle Vernon seized him around the waist and Padfoot by the collar, and threw them in the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut right in Padfoot's face.  
  
Harry watched the dog clawed furiously at the door as the sound of the letters streaming in became louder.  
  
A few moments later, Uncle Vernon ran out of the room, livid, kicking Padfoot out of his way, shouting, "I want you all back here in five minutes! We're leaving! No arguments."  
  
Ten minutes later, they were in the car speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat while Harry was examining where Uncle Vernon had kicked Padfoot. Padfoot, who by some miracle was allowed to come, was looking almost as irritated as Uncle Vernon as he stared out the window at the house.  
  
They drove for hours, every now and then taking a sharp turn and drove in the opposite direction. They did not stop to eat or drink all day, and by nightfall Dudley was howling.  
  
Finally, Uncle Vernon stopped at a gloomy-looking hotel outside of a city. Padfoot was tried to the car since no dogs were allowed inside. And Harry was forced to share a room with Dudley. He stayed up all night while Dudley snored, simply thinking.  
  
The next morning the hotel owner came up to them, saying that she had gotten a hundred letters this morning addressed to a Mr. H. Potter.  
  
~~  
  
Harry was sprawled out on the back seats while Dudley complained to Aunt Petunia in the front. Uncle Vernon had left several hours ago, parking the car on the coast. Rain drops were beating on the hood. Padfoot looked despairingly up at the roof.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you stay inside tonight," Harry promised.  
  
"It's Monday," Dudley told his mother up front.  
  
Harry's eyes widened; if today was Monday then tomorrow was Tuesday, Harry's eleventh birthday. Even though Harry's birthdays were never exactly fun—last year he had gotten a coat hanger and an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks—but still, it _was_ his birthday.  
  
Just then Uncle Vernon appeared, carrying a long, thin box. "Found the perfect place, everybody follow me!"  
  
Uncle Vernon's perfect place turned out to be a little shack perched on a rock a ways out to sea. It smelled strongly of seaweed, and the wind whistled through the cracks in the wall with a blackened fireplace and only two rooms.  
  
Uncle Vernon was delighted; he obviously thought that no one would be able to reach them all the way out here, especially with a storm rolling in. Harry agreed with him, feeling more depressed than before.  
  
As the storm raged outside, Aunt Petunia made up a bed for Dudley on the dilapidated couch, leaving Harry to find the softest bit of floor to sleep on.  
  
The storm shook the shack making the windows rattle as Harry tossed and turned trying to fall asleep, but nothing worked. Harry looked at Dudley whose watch had a lighted dial, it was ten to twelve.  
  
To past the time he started drawing a huge birthday cake with HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY written on it on the sand covered floor. Carefully he drew eleven candles as his birthday ticked closer.  
  
Padfoot nudged Harry's hand away, and using one of his nail scratched a flame over each candle.  
  
"You want me to make a wish?" Harry mumbled. "Okay." He closed his eyes for a second before grinning and "blowing out" the sand flames.  
  
Just as he blew out the last candle the watch clicked 12:00 . . .  
  
BOOM! 


	3. Their World

A/N: It's me . . . again. I know! I know! It took a month but the only excuse I have can be summed up in one word: "school." Anyway, on with the show!  
  
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This 'Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.  
  
Thank you: HoundofDeath (HERE IT IS OH ANNOYINGLY LOYAL ONE!!! All your hard work paid off. It _only_ took me a month. Not too bad, right? *grins*), Lady Foxfire (Oh, he'll think of something I'm sure *winks*), Purple Honey Kitten, Keara Jordan (Thank you! You're a bloody wicked reviewer!), Ariana Deralte (You shall see), Evie, FireDragon, Lindsay, tima, Lotesse (I know exactly what you' mean, but I will explain everything in later chapters) Kranberries, sweets (Aw, sweets you know me _too_ well! Here are the continuing adventures of the caped crusader Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick the dog wonder Padfoot!), audiaa2 (*hugs* Aw audiaa I missed you! Light's Apprentice is great! I'll review soon I promise!), Sandrine Black (Padfoot is a great pooch, huh?), Fire Spirit (I know, but they're the Dursleys. _when I do this_ it means that the word is being emphasized ), prongsjr, Kaylin, Lavander Ice, Quidditch Captain, Eva Phoenix Potter, Urania, WhiteIckyThing (Trust me, this one is coming along quite nicely. Essays can be quite a pain can't they?), Princess Kattera (Sure, ask anytime) vmr, Wolfie (How's one of my favorite authors doing? SEE! I have been writing, and by the way you're a better writer than me any day!), T. Cairpre, Shayla (Sure! *hands birthday cake*)  
  
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious thanks to my betas, Immia, (she gave me the title for this story) Essence of Magic and sweets! Without them I would have scrapped this whole thing immediately. So if you really like this story line thank them for encouraging me to write it.  
  
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone, I stake no claim to them; they are Rowling's. I own the some of the plot and a few original things. Yes I know most of this chapter is taken from the book but it has to be that way, I'm sorry. I just couldn't leave some things out, there was _a lot_ of information in that chapter you know.  
  
  
  
Chapter 2: Their World  
  
  
  
BOOM!  
  
Harry jumped as the cabin door came crashing down. Padfoot leapt in front of him, shielding him from whatever it may be, but even the giant dog could have protected Harry from this. Simply because the thing that had knocked down the door _was_ a giant.  
  
As the giant squeezed through the doorframe Harry was able to make out the loads of bushy black hair that covered his head and face. Once inside he bent down, picked up the door and fit it nicely back into its frame, blocking out the howling wind and rain.  
  
"Couldn't make a cup o' tea there, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey," said the giant with a thick accent.  
  
Harry turned to see whom the giant was talking to, the Dursleys had come in and Uncle Vernon had a rifle in his hands. Instinctively, he grabbed Padfoot's collar.  
  
Dudley scurried off the couch as the giant made to sit on, hiding as much as he could behind his parents.  
  
"And here's Harry," the giant said, turning his attention to the bewildered boy. "Last time I saw yeh you were only a baby. Got yeh mum's eyes, but look a lot like yeh dad."  
  
Padfoot barked sharply as if not wanting to be left out.  
  
"And if it isn't ole' Padfoot, you been keepin' an eye on Harry haven't yeh?" said the giant fondly.  
  
Padfoot nodded, before placing his head in Harry's lap, eyes solemn. Something rather unpleasant was going to happen and the dog wanted no part of it. Harry went about stroking his head, knowing what his dog's action meant. The pair was not disappointed when Uncle Vernon spoke up.  
  
"I demand you leave at once sir," he rasped.  
  
"Aw, shut up Dursley," the giant said, jerking the rifle out of Uncle Vernon's hands and twisting it into a pretzel as if it had been made of rubber.  
  
Padfoot thumped his tail loudly at this.  
  
"Yeh like that, huh Padfoot? Been wantin' to do that for a long time I suspect, followed Dumbledore's orders though," the giant seemed to be speaking to the dog like it understood his every word. He spoke to Padfoot like Harry spoke to him. Like he was a human trapped in a dog's body. "Now Harry, a very happy birthday to yeh, I got yeh a cake, it's here somewhere. Mighta squashed it at one point, but it'll taste good, don't let that mutt steal it all either, he has a sweet tooth it there ever was one."  
  
Harry giggled; Padfoot was terrible when it came to sweets, especially chocolate—the one sweet that he was forbidden to have.  
  
Padfoot rolled his eyes, nosing the pink cake box as Harry opened it. He watched as Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the slightly squashed chocolate frosted cake with "Happy Birthday Harry!" written in green icing.  
  
Harry meant to say thank you, but it came out as, "Who are you?"  
  
The giant's eyes sparkled. "True I haven't introduced me self, Rubeus Hagrid—call me Hagrid, everybody does—Keeper of the Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts. Yeh know about Hogwarts, o' course."  
  
"Er, no I don't," Harry blurted out.  
  
Hagrid looked shocked.  
  
"Sorry," said Harry quickly.  
  
"Sorry?!" barked Hagrid, his voice booming like a thundercloud. He rounded on Padfoot, "Yeh didn't tell 'im, Padfoot? Or has ten years clouded yeh mind!"  
  
Padfoot growled and snorted in disgust in the direction of the Dursleys.  
  
"Them?" Hagrid said sharply. "You let those sorry excuses for humans push yeh around like a common house pet? I thought yeh'd tell him even if he didn't get his letters."  
  
Padfoot growled several time, swishing his tail in a haughty manner before the giant nodded and turned his fury toward the Dursleys.  
  
During Hagrid's discussion with the dog, Harry had felt very confused and now it appeared that either Padfoot could speak giant or that Hagrid could speak dog.  
  
"He doesn't know ANYTHING!" roared Hagrid at the Dursleys.  
  
Harry was beginning to feel insulted by that, he did know some things. He wasn't completely stupid. He tried to speak up, but Padfoot beat him to it.  
  
"You know what I mean ya rotten mutt," Hagrid snarled, seeming as furious with Padfoot as he was with the Dursleys. "He doesn't know about his world. My world. Your world, Si—Padfoot."  
  
"What world?"  
  
"DURSLEY! PADFOOT! I dunno whose neck I'm gonna wring first!"  
  
"You're not touching Padfoot," snapped Harry, grabbing Padfoot by the collar and pulling him into, what he thought, was a protective hug. (Padfoot, on the other hand, found it rather uncomfortable.)  
  
Hagrid turned to Harry, his eyes softening at the sight. He waved at Harry, telling him not to worry, before running a hand through his tangled hair. "But yeh know about yeh mum and dad, don't yeh? They're famous. You're famous."  
  
"My parents weren't famous, were they?" Harry asked, looking at Padfoot who nodded.  
  
"Yeh . . . don't . . . know? Yeh don't know who—what yeh . . . are?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something but Uncle Dursley cut him off.  
  
"Stop, I forbid you from telling him a thing," he commanded.  
  
Hagrid rounded on him, livid. "Why you sorry excuse for a human being, you kept it from him all these years! I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it there! And you kept it from him!"  
  
"STOP! I FORBID YOU!"  
  
"Aw, go boil yer head will you?" Hagrid spat before turning to Harry. "Harry yer a . . . wizard."  
  
Silence overtook the cabin, only the beating rain and whistling wind could be heard.  
  
"I'm a what?" gasped Harry finally.  
  
"A wizard," repeated Hagrid. "A good one I reckon one yeh've been train up a bit with a mum and dad like yours, what else would you be? I think it's about time yeh read your letter."  
  
Harry took the letter that the giant offered him, (addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-On-The-Rock, The Sea) opened it, and took the letter out.  
  
"Dear Mr. Potter," he read aloud. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
  
"Term begins September first. We await your owl no later than July 31st.  
  
"Sincerely,  
  
"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."  
  
Harry looked up as questions exploded in his head. He looked from the fuming Uncle Vernon to the pleased looking Hagrid to the fantastically proud—if dogs could look fantastically proud—Padfoot. "What does it mean "await my owl," Harry asked curiously.  
  
Hagrid clapped a hand to his head causing the cabin to shake. "I almost forgot," he cried, pulling out a roll of parchment, a quill, and an owl from within his many pockets. He scrawled a quick note and sent it off with the owl. The he turned to Harry, beaming.  
  
"He's not going," said Uncle Vernon firmly.  
  
"I'd like ter see a Muggle like you stop him."  
  
"A Muggle?"  
  
"What we call non-magic folk Harry. And this lot is the kind that gives Muggles a bad name."  
  
"Don't you dare tell his anymore!" Uncle Vernon warned. "When we took him in . . ."  
  
Harry listened as both his uncle and more particularly his aunt ranted about how abnormal his parents were. "And then!" Aunt Petunia huffed. "She went and got herself blown up and we get landed with you and their mangy mutt!"  
  
"BLOWN UP!" yelled Harry. "You told me they died in a car crash!"  
  
"CAR CRASH!" boomed Hagrid. In one swift motion he grabbed Padfoot, held him so he was eye-to-eye with the dog and started shaking him, yelling, "A CAR CRASH KILL LILY AND JAMES POTTER?! PADFOOT YOU WORTHLESS MUTT, WHY DIDN'T YOU RIP OFF THAT MUGGLE'S LEG FOR WHEN HE SAID THAT?"  
  
Padfoot wiggled out of Hagrid's hold, landed on the floor, and slammed his paw on Harry's letter.  
  
Hagrid bent over to see what the dog was pointing at before going an alarming shade of red. "Oh, oh, er, sorry for that Padfoot. Lost me head for a moment." Hagrid said apologetically, smoothing Padfoot's quite ruffled fur.  
  
Harry, by now, was confused, furious, and downright exasperated with everybody in the room, including his dog.  
  
"If it's not too much trouble," he said loudly. "Would somebody please tell me what is going on?"  
  
Hagrid turned to Harry and swallowed hard. After some time he said, "It's just I dunno where to begin Harry, I never though that yeh wouldn't know. I mean everybody knows your story but yeh."  
  
Padfoot whined softly, laying his head in Harry's lap.  
  
"I suppose it all started with a person—called—'mazing yeh don't know his name when everyone in our world does."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Well—nobody likes sayin' his name if they can help."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Gulpin' Gorgons, people are still scared Harry. Yeh see, there once was a wizard who went as bad as once can possible go. Worse than that even. His name was . . ."  
  
Harry waited for Hagrid to speak but nothing came out. "Perhaps you could write it down?"  
  
"Nah—can't spell it. All right—Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "And don't make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago . . ."  
  
Harry listened silently, staring into the fire, and occasionally stroking Padfoot's head, as Hagrid told the story of how he defeated one of the most powerful wizards ever.  
  
"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon when Hagrid finished his tale.  
  
Harry jumped, he had nearly forgotten that the Dursleys were there. It seemed his uncle had gotten his courage back.  
  
Both Hagrid and Padfoot shot him dirty looks.  
  
"Er, Hagrid," Harry said quietly. "I think you must have made a mistake. I can't be a wizard."  
  
Padfoot straightened up a bit and licked Harry's cheek gently, encouragingly.  
  
Hagrid looked at Padfoot with solemn eyes before saying, "Harry have you ever done something—something unusual—when yeh was scared or mad?"  
  
Harry looked into the fire once again. Actually what Hagrid was saying was very true, when he had been chased by Dudley's gang he found himself out of their, reach, and the last time Dudley hit him he had gotten his revenge without even realizing it. Once again he looked from his dog to Hagrid who were both smiling.  
  
"Harry Potter, not a wizard," Hagrid chuckled. "You'll see, yeh're famous at Hogwarts."  
  
"I've told you already, he's going to Stonewall and he'll be—"  
  
"Nothin' you say can stop him if he wants to go. His name's been down since he was born."  
  
For some reason Padfoot puffed out his chest at this.  
  
"Finest Wizarding School in the world, it is. Be with youngsters of his own sort fer a change, an' he'll under be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumb—"  
  
"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.  
  
But the purple-faced man had finally gone too far. Hagrid whirled around, swinging his umbrella around, bellowing. "NEVER—INSLUT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!"  
  
There was a flash of violet and what sounded like a firecracker going off, and the next moment Dudley was dancing around the room, his hands over his fat bottom. When he turned his back to them Harry could see a curly pig's tail poking through his trousers.  
  
Uncle Vernon, roared, herding his family into the next room, and slamming the door behind him. Padfoot leapt over to the door and barked sharply twice as if to say, "And don't come back!"  
  
"Shouldn't have lost me temper," muttered Hagrid ruefully. "I'd appreciate it if yeh didn't mention that at Hogwarts. I'm not supposed to do magic strictly speaking."  
  
"Okay," Harry agreed, "but why?"  
  
Hagrid shrugged uncomfortably, "Well, I was at Hogwarts meself, but I was expelled. Snapped my and wand and everything, but Dumbledore let me stay on ask Dumbledore. Great man Dumbledore."  
  
"Why were you expelled?" Harry asked quickly, his eyes bright with curiosity.  
  
"My! It's getting' late, better get some sleep Harry. We have a lot to do tomorrow." Hagrid took off his coat and tossed it to Harry. "You can kip under that."  
  
Hagrid watched as Harry arranged the coat around him, he held up a section so Padfoot could curl under. But instead the dog lied down at Harry's head letting to boy use him as a pillow. Harry did so, wondering briefly if Padfoot too was a magical being before giving into the heavy tug of sleep. 


	4. Into the World

A/N: It's me . . . again. I know! I know! It took five months so I will not even try to explain myself and simply let you get to the chapter.  
  
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This 'Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.  
  
Thank you: Everyone who ever reviewed or read A Wizard's Best Friend and has put up with my screwy posting.  
  
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone, I stake no claim to them; they are Rowling's. I own the some of the plot and a few original things.  
  
Chapter 3: Into the World  
  
  
  
Harry awoke the next morning to find himself very warm and very, very comfortable. His face was buried in a mound of black fur causing the dog to awaken. The occurrences of last night came back to him, and he only wished to fall asleep again so the fantastic dream would not end. Padfoot yawned loudly, his fur bristling at the pressure on his side. His soft growling alerted his boy that his servitude as a pillow was fulfilled, and he couldn't breath. "Oh do be quiet Pads, Aunt Petunia will wake us up soon enough," Harry murmured, sliding his head off of Padfoot's back and onto . . . a coat? He sat up quickly, and a heavy mole skin coat fell off of him. He looked at Padfoot hopefully, "It wasn't a dream, was it?" The dog shook its head, pointing at the giant who was sleeping on the collapsed couch. "I'm a wizard," whispered Harry to himself. He had the sudden urge to jump up and whoop. And he would have if an owl had not swooped in at that moment and dropped a paper right on Hagrid's face. Harry watched curiously as Padfoot sniffed several coat pockets as the owl flew about his head before pawing one. Harry knelt down, unbuttoned the pocket and extracted a satin bag that chinked. He opened it, and several oddly shaped coins fell out. The owl screeched impatiently as Padfoot nosed five bronze coins. He deposited the coins into a bag the bird offered him before realizing that he was being watched. "Yes?" "Nothing," Hagrid chuckled, "ye dog's better with money then most wizards." "That's because he _is_ magical, isn't he Hagrid?" Harry said turning to Hagrid. "How'd ye guess?" Harry shrugged. "He's just too smart to be a normal mutt, right Padfoot?" Padfoot barked in agreement, shaking himself awake. Hagrid stood and stretched, before pulling on his coat. "Must be off Harry, lots to do today," he said opening the door. Harry followed Hagrid out. Padfoot ran out in front of them, leaping over the rocky ground and playing tag with the surf, happy just to be outside. Harry grinned, and ran off after him. The massive mutt leapt playfully on his owner, snapped at his heels. They played for several minutes before Hagrid reminded them that they must be going.  
  
The trip to London was an interesting one. Hagrid received a lot of strange looks from passersby do to his size. As they walked through the crowded London streets Harry consulted his letter again. In addition to the supply list a small note caught his eye. "Er, Hagrid?" "Yes?" "It says here that students may also bring an owl or a cat or a toad," Harry looked up at the giant. "No dogs. Will Padfoot have to stay with the Dursleys?" Hagrid wrinkled his nose at the thought. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will let him in as long as he don't bite." Padfoot snorted. "He's never bitten anyone," Harry explained. "I guess he doesn't like the idea of people thinking he would." Hagrid nodded in agreement. They walked a few more paces before Hagrid stopped in front of a grubby looking pub with a faded, swinging sign. "The Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid announced. "Famous this place is." For a famous place the Leaky Cauldron was rather dark and shabby. Several women sat in a corner, while one man with a violet top smoked on a long pipe in another. A bald-headed, toothless man stood behind the bar and waved to Hagrid. "The usual Hagrid?" he asked. "Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder nearly causing the boy to topple. The bartender gasped. "Bless my soul it's Harry Potter!" This simple sentence caused a flurry of activity. A scarping of chairs and clinking of glasses against the tables as every person in the pub gathered around Harry, shaking his hand furiously. Harry even found himself being introduced to a very nervous, stuttering man wearing a purple turban that turned out to a Hogwarts professor. "Brilliant mind," Hagrid said as they left the pub, "but when he went out into the field, got into a good bit of trouble with a hag, never the same. Let me see three up, two across, right." Harry watched in awe as the brick wall parted revealing cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley." As they stepped out into the street Harry gasped at the many shops, people, and hustle and bustle around him. He swore he saw a woman selling frog's liver on a stick. "Er, Hagrid," he said suddenly, "I haven't got any money. How am I to pay for all this?" Hagrid shook his bushy head. "There's ye money Harry, Gringotts the wizard bank." He pointed at the snow white building that looked squashed between a general store and a pet shop. As they made their way up the steep steps Hagrid added, "Run by goblins o'course." A goblin was a short, crafty-looking creature, with long nibble fingers and oddly enough toes. One name Griphook led Harry and Hagrid down to the vaults. (Padfoot had to wait upstairs.) The trip down was not altogether a thoroughly unpleasant one. It was much like a roller coaster ride, even more so when Hagrid turned a light shade of green. When the cart screeched in front of Harry's vault, he was not sure what to expect. The last thing he expected in fact was exactly what he found. Buried deep under the London streets he, Harry Potter who for his entire life was made to wear hand-me down and taped up glasses, had a small fortune. Once he had gathered enough money, Harry rejoined Hagrid in the cart, and they plunged further into the subterranean caverns. "Vault seven-hundred and thirteen," announced Griphook as they jolted to a stop. The goblin hopped out of the cart and swept a finger down a recess in the vault's door. The thick steal melted away. Harry craned his neck to see what was inside. Precious jewels or deadly potions no doubt, but all he saw was a grubby little package that Hagrid stuffed into the depths of his coat.  
  
Several hours later, they were laden with strangely shaped packages including a large snowy owl which turned out to be Harry's birthday present. (Harry had been thanking Hagrid for the last ten minutes.) Harry consulted his list one more time. "I just need a wand," he said finally. "Ollivanders'," grunted Hagrid, pointing to a decrepit looking shop with a single wand on a purple pillow serving as a focal point in its cobweb covered window. With what Harry could judge from the window, the inside of the shop was nearly the same. Dark and dreary with neat rows of long, thin boxes covering the wall and the air of a very strict library, Harry clung tightly to Padfoot's collar. The voice was so soft and sudden that Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the words, "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you hear, Mr. Potter." The speaker was a thin man with flyaway grey hair, small glasses that sat precariously on his nose in front of a pair of strange silvery eyes that sent chills up and down Harry's spine. This must have been Mr. Ollivander. As the wand maker approached, Padfoot whined softly. Sitting at his master's feet he stuck his tail firmly under him while Ollivander spoke of Harry's parents' wands and Hagrid's. He stretched out a long, thin finger and touched the tip of the dog's nose. Harry heard him mutter something about "Dogwood" before asking Harry which hand was his wand hand.  
  
"My right," Harry said shakily as Ollivander's tape measure leapt at him. He watched as Ollivander pulled down box after box of wands while talking breathlessly about the quality of each one. With a quick snap of his finger's the wand maker summoned the tape measure back again, and handed Harry a wand. Several dozen wands later, Harry was starting to feel very stupid indeed while Ollivander just shoved another wand into his hand. "Tricky customer, eh?" said Ollivander. "No matter, we'll find the right one here somewhere-I wonder, now-yes, why not-unusual combination-holly and phoenix, eleven inches, nice and supple." The moment the wand touched his fingers, Harry felt a great warmth race through him. He raised the wand high above his head, bringing it down with a great whoosh! A jet of gold and red sparks issued from it. Hagrid whooped, Padfoot barked happily, jumping and prancing around Harry. Ollivander clapped quietly, mumbling, "Curious . . . very curious." He continued doing so while he wrapped the wand up and was given the seven gold galleons for it. "Sorry," Harry said as politely as he could, "but _what's_ curious?" "I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, fixing Harry with a pale stare. "And it just so happens that phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave one other feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar." "Thirteen and half inches, yew, I remember it like it was yesterday. The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter; I think we can expect great things from you. For He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named did great things . . . terrible, yes, but great." Ollivander continued muttering "curious" all the way up until bowing them out of the shop.  
  
The sun hung low upon all of London as the sun's last rays gave way to twilight. Hagrid handed Harry a small packet. "Your train ticket, first of September, and the platform number. It's all there on your ticket." Harry took the packet, examining his ticket. "Thank you." Hagrid nodded "I'll be seein' ye at Hogwarts." Harry tried to keep Hagrid in sight for as long as possible while the train that would take him back to Little Whinging pulled out of the Underground. But with a blink the giant was gone.  
  
The last month of the summer passed agonizingly slow for Harry. Although the Dursleys pretended that anywhere Harry was sitting or standing was invisible, it is never nice to be ignored. Padfoot and his owl (Hedwig) became the only two creatures that could stand the sight of him. Every night he would lie on his bed and read through his spell books. Occasionally, Padfoot would follow along, but with an expression somewhere between pride and sever boredom. "Is there something more exciting than vanquishing vampires?" Harry said sarcastically the night before he was due to leave for Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon agreed to drive them, he said that it was on their way, or he wouldn't bother. He had particularly wanted to know if that "mangy mutt" was going to "Pigsnout." Harry had answered in the affirmative causing his Uncle to brighten considerably. Padfoot only quirked his head to one side. Harry sighed. Sometimes he wondered who really was the master and who was the pet.  
  
The next morning Harry awoke long before the sun rose. With a flourish, he tore down the scrap of paper that he had been using to keep track of the days until he left for Hogwarts. Triple checking his things, he gave locked Hedwig's cage and pick up a very worn lead from his desk. He watched as a pair of large brown eyes glared at him from atop the bed. "You know the rules," Harry grinned. "In public places you where a lead, just imagine me going of to Hogwarts and you spending ten months in some third-rate dog pound at King's Cross." Padfoot became rather meek after that. The ride to King's Cross was a sober one. No one talked, only stared out the window without really focusing on anything. Harry watched as cars of all shapes and sizes passed by. His empty stomach rumbled with excitement. This was the something he had been longing for all his life. He would finally be known as something besides Dudley's punching bag, or the kid with the baggy clothes. He would be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had the sudden urge to crawl under the seat and hide.  
  
King's Cross station was not remarkable by anyone's standards. It was nice, but still a train station. Uncle Vernon stayed long enough to remove all traces of Harry from his car and onto a trolley. He sped off like a madman, leaving Harry to his own devices. The bespectacled boy wheeled his trolley up and down the platform, looking for the one numbered 9 ¾. He checked the giant clock every so often. The train left at 11:00 meaning that he had ten minutes left to locate it, stow his things and find a compartment. This was a good time to panic. He tired asking a guard, but his only response was, "Think you're bein' funny, do ya? And what that dog doin' here?" After a quick escape, a sheen of seat started to form on Harry's forehead. He was going to miss his train and be stuck at King's Cross until June. He'd be a frozen statue by the end of November, and thaw around late April or early May. Not that Padfoot was being any help, he just kept scratching at the wall between the barriers. Just as Harry was figuring out which position he would be most likely to freeze in a large family of red- heads passed his way, and one had an owl. He slid up behind the smallest of the boys, and watched as one by one the elder boys rolled their trolleys up to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, passing straight through it. "Whoa!" Harry whispered as a pair of twins ran straight through it, cackling. A plump red-headed woman who Harry gathered was their mother, gestured for the boy in front of Harry to go through. He started to wheel his trolley when a dog barked, and Harry spoke up. "E-Excuse me," he said, wheeling his trolley forward. "But I was wondering if you knew how . . ." "How to get onto the platform?" the woman finished for him, kindly. Harry nodded. "All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous." Harry thanked her, and started to jog toward the platform, trying to keep the unpleasant image of crushed-Harry out of his mind. He watched as he spend towards the barrier, realizing how awfully solid it looked and how he could no longer turn away. The suddenly . . . he was on the other side of the barrier, staring at a scarlet steam engine. Above him hang a sign, proclaiming the place to be none other than Platform Nine and Three Quarters.  
  
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"Excuse me? But do you mind?" Harry looked up; the youngest of the red-haired boys was standing in the corridor. "No at all," Harry replied as Padfoot jumped off the seat. "I'm Ron Weasley," the boy said sitting down. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said, moving over to let Padfoot sit down next to him. He looked up to see Ron, slack-jawed. Ron caught himself and closed his mouth. "Well, yeah, I thought Fred and George were joking . . . er, do you really have the _scar_?" Harry grinned and pushed back his bangs. "Wow," Ron gasped before leaning back. "Do you remember . . .?" Harry shook his head. "Just a lot of green light, I guess Padfoot barked but-" "Padfoot?" "Yeah," Harry grinned, pointing to the dog. "This is my dog, Padfoot." Ron shook his head. "That's not a dog, Harry." "Sure it is." "Nope, it's beog." "A what?!" "Half bear, half dog. A beog." "Padfoot, the beog," Harry snickered. Padfoot, obviously did not enjoy being called a beog, and hid his head under the seat cushion, only causing the boys' laughter to escalate. But for a creature so good at communicating with humans, Padfoot could not tell Harry of what was to come in the following months, how his life was about to change the moment he placed the Sorting Hat on his head and truly made his return to the Wizarding World. 


End file.
